Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.
Warning: Adult content.
A/N: A highly experimental piece with a heavy dose of shameless indulgence.
La Fantaisie Nocturne de Monsieur Malfoy
ou, L'Amour de Monsieur le Loup
The wooden clock on the mantelpiece chimed on a most peculiar time: eleven fifteen post meridiem. He should be here any minute now, Draco thought as he put down his book and got up from the chaise longue by the bay window, beyond which was the ink black sea. In unhurried steps he went into the kitchen, making necessary preparation for the arrival of his guest.
He took out two sparkling wine glasses from the kitchen cupboard, along with a bone china plate, both of which he inspected beneath the light with a critical eye before nodding to himself in approval. After a brief rumination, he grabbed a long knife from the drawer and experimentally spun it around in his hand. Next, he removed the large silver lid placed on the wooden counter, revealing a silver platter of cheese and ham underneath. The sterling silver platter was a shade too extravagant, but no matter.
He balanced everything in his arms with some difficulty and brought them to the sitting room, where a black table cloth was spread on the floor before the fireplace. The bright flame was burning merrily in the hearth, its pleasant warmth made Draco pause for a moment, before he went back to work. As he laid everything out on the cloth, he noted to himself if he had brought everything, then realised he had forgotten about the wine bottle opener.
Hastily he went back to the kitchen to retrieve the sommelier knife, but by the time he located it in the drawer, the doorbell had sung its songbird chirps. Shutting the drawer with a careless thrust of his hip, he rushed to the front door and opened it. Immediately, the chilly air from the winter sea came pouring into the cottage, reminding him rudely that he was clad in nothing more than a shirt and a pair of slacks.
The steady heartbeat of the ocean, which was muffled within the seaside cottage, flew into Draco's ear like blood rushing into his brain. To and fro, back and forth -- the rhythm could not be more exact than that of a metronome, or the sound of a swing swaying to the autumn breeze. Draco liked the latter analogy better, and what prompted him to think as such was thanks to the figure standing before him.
It was a young man clothed in a loose black coat and a pair of khaki trousers, with a red scarf poking out from the collar and a black hood over his head. He was carrying a brown paper bag of what appeared to be grocery in his arm; a loaf of baguette was sticking out from the bag. Letting out a breath, the young man took off his hood, revealing dark, unruly hair and a youthful face framed by a pair of round glasses.
"Hi," Harry said, with an accompanying smile that was quite charming in its awkwardly earnest way. "Can't believe it gets so cold all of a sudden."
"And you are making me cold by standing out here for so long," Draco scoffed as he was wont to do.
"And hello to you too." Having grown used to Draco's obnoxious manner, Harry simply waved it aside and entered the cottage. He kicked the door close behind him, shutting out the whining from the wind and the chanting from the sea. "You sound grumpy. Did you forget to take your nightly dose of caffeine?"
"I'm waiting for something stronger than coffee or tea," Draco said absently as he peeked into the grocery bag Harry was carrying. Aside from the long french bread that was baked a perfect brown, hiding timidly inside the bag was a bottle of red wine. "Hmm, your pick isn't so bad for once."
"Yeah, and it costs a small fortune too," Harry replied wryly while handing the paper bag over to Draco, who took it without any objection. Harry removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door; but he kept the red scarf around his neck.
"Don't you know that monetary concern is an inappropriate topic to bring up, especially when you are staying over at someone's place?" Draco shot Harry a sidelong glance that was a slate too suggestive to be counted as mere annoyance, before walking on ahead.
Completely unbothered by Draco's antics, Harry merely smiled an exasperated smile and followed Draco into the sitting room, where everything was set up before the fireplace. The room was quiet save for the crackling of the blaze in the fireplace and the faintest ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
"Ah, as efficient as ever," Harry complimented, and after casually kicking off his shoes, he sat down on the floor. Stretching out his arms and legs without a care, he held his freezing hands near the fire gratefully, letting the welcoming heat warm up his body.
"That's our arrangement, isn't that so? You bring the wine, and I provide the setting." Draco sat down and disposed the content in the paper bag onto the makeshift carpet. Taking out the sommelier knife he had been carrying in his pocket, he expertly pried open the seal on the neck of the bottle.
"That's true," Harry answered while gazing appreciatively at Draco's offhandedly graceful hand movement. No matter how many times he had seen Draco opened a bottle of wine, he never got tired of seeing those artistic hands working their magic.
Draco held the open bottle near his nose, and deeming it ready to be savoured, he poured the wine into the wine glasses. Like crimson silk the wine glided into the glasses, its refreshing, fir-like flavour filling the air between him and Harry. Like a wine connoisseur that he was, Draco held the wineglass to the firelight, beholding the blood red jewel in the glass. Swirling the glass slightly to let the wine blossom, Draco breathed in the scent of trees and blackberries. Tentatively Draco took a sip and rolled the smooth liquid around in his mouth, before swallowing the mouthful as a finishing touch. His initial impression had stood correct; the wine was quite a gem.
When Draco opened his eyes, he noticed Harry's gaze on him and Harry's wineglass remain untouched. Questioningly he arched a pale eyebrow at Harry, who was wearing that infuriatingly serene smile about his shapely lips. The smile ought to irritate Draco, but the only thing he felt was what he knew to be the first sliver of desire.
"Nothing," Harry replied to Draco's unspoken query while shaking his head once. As if in an attempt to divert Draco's attention, Harry picked up the long silver knife and proceeded to slice the bread.
While Harry was by no means particularly skilful with a knife, Draco always found Harry's way of handling the knife morbidly fascinating. Perhaps it was the absurdly domestic air surrounding Harry, or perhaps it was the possibility of brutality behind such a simple act -- or perhaps Draco merely had an unnatural infatuation with sharp objects, especially when it was in Harry's hand.
Taking a slice of ham and cheese, Harry placed them on top of a slice of bread and held it out for Draco with a daring gaze -- a silent challenge it was. Letting out a low chuckle, Draco opened his mouth and took a bite, savouring the combined taste of bread and cheese and ham. The bread was baked just the right level of crispiness; the cheese was a rich, creamy affair; and the smoked ham provided the complementary spicy twist.
"Hmm," Draco hummed as Harry wiped the corner of his lips with a cool finger that was lingering longer than was necessary. "You aren't completely ignorant about this sort of thing after all."
"Oh?" Harry put the finger that had shamelessly violated Draco's lips to his own mouth, and licked it with the tip of his tongue. Those dark green eyes of his were gleaming with a hint of hunger. "So you don't expect much from me."
"It's more like I don't know what to expect," Draco remarked and watched Harry take a bite of the bread, white teeth baring like sharp fangs. "It's difficult to make a judgement when you don't have all the facts." Feeling his throat slightly dry, Draco took another sip of the wine.
"All the facts?" Harry repeated with a faintly affronted look that could fool everyone but Draco. Cocking his head curiously, Harry held the half-eaten sandwich to Draco again. "What do you want to know?"
"Oh, this and that," Draco replied vaguely, a mischievous glint flashing fleetingly in his silver eyes. Parting his mouth, he bit lightly on the bread, along with Harry's thumb, leaving a trail of warm saliva on Harry's hand. "Anything that you don't want anyone to know about?"
And Harry, with a roguish curl of his lips that was neither a smile nor a smirk, abandoned the abused sandwich and replaced it with his finger against Draco's parted lips. "Well, now that you mention it, there are a few things here and there. But it will take quite a long time to tell you all about it."
Tasting the faint scent of cheese and ham that was lingering still on Harry's fingertip, Draco offered him a winning smile that was almost like a concealed invitation, or a predator's sweet smile before the kill. Playing with the tail of Harry's red scarf, Draco purred, "Then you'd better start talking now."
-- Reclining lazily on his back, Draco pressed his palm over his forehead, pushing the blond strands away from his brow. Lying down beside him, Harry firmly clutched Draco's other arm, his teeth grazing Draco's skin, leaving wet bite marks on his bare arm; it was as though Harry was sampling the taste of his meal before devouring it. The forsaken red scarf was entwined with Draco's body like a scarlet snake.
It was a role reversal, Draco supposed. This Little Red Riding Hood was not so naive, he with the gluttonous appetite; what was hidden beneath the dark hood and the crimson scarf was certainly not some helpless child waiting to be preyed upon. And that was why the wolf, in turn, was the one being eaten.
If you eat too much, you are going to get a stomach-ache, Draco mused distractedly as he felt a strong craving burning inside him, ever so slowly driving away his sanity. Tilting his head to the side, Draco took in the sight of the leftover food and wine, the appetizer before the main course; his half-closed grey eyes beheld the sharp silver blade lying innocently on the black cloth.
Hmm, they did say the flesh of a hunter who had glutted himself with all manners of sins tasted especially plump and juicy.
Bon appetit.
A/N: This offbeat one-shot is inspired by Little Red Riding Hood, albeit with a more adult-oriented spin. And for once, here is a vignette with little to no backstory to speak of. This piece is like a photograph: what you see is what you get. It is up to you to decide what you can make of it, whether you want to read between the lines or to take it literally as it is.